Page 11 of The Hitchhiker in Panama
“No worries.”
“Good. Any questions, let me know. One of the joys of cruising is that occasionally we all have to deal with our literal shit together.” Eivind grinned.
“Oh God, I bet there are great stories.”
Eivind knocked on the wall behind the toilet. “Here there is a holding tank. For all the waste. Before that, it goes through a . . . pump.” Eivind mimed a tumbling motion with his fingers. “To, err . . . blend it. Like a frozen drink.”
I groaned. “Thanks, you’ve put me off daiquiris.”
“Once, the tank clogged, so it was full of shit. And Jonas had to shove a wire up from the outside to unclog it and he could not push himself away fast enough and . . .” Eivind blew a raspberry.
“Wow. Poor Jonas.”
Eivind grinned again and shrugged. Stepping out of the head, he closed the door. “Welcome to cruising life.”
A knock sounded from up on the deck and Jonas went to check it out. Soon he climbed back in with two men in tow: a beefy guy, dark skinned and older; the other a short Asian man. Introductions were made between us and Robert, the agent, and Hiro, the admeasurer, and we all crammed around the table. Eivind pressed in next to me, our thighs touching.
Jonas started filling out paperwork while Robert collected the passports of the other crew and asked Jonas questions. Jonas wrote in neat block handwriting and still managed to keep up with the conversation. I tried to follow as best I could while they discussed the specifications of the boat, but details like horsepower and fenders and moorings went over my head.
At one point we all moved outside and Hiro measured the boat. He had an actual tape measure. Marcella stood at the bow and held one end of the tape measure while he walked down the dock. He marked the distance to one of the metal rails, and we all got back on board and he did the same thing, handing Jonas the tape measure to hold while he walked down the back of the boat.
Eik’s stern extended past the dock, so Hiro finished measuring the boat by leaning over the rail and using his arm span to hold the measuring tape all the way to the end—the far edge ofEik’s dinghy.
“Fifty-seven feet, three inches,” he pronounced.
We went back inside for more discussion. Hiro showed us how the boats could go through the canal.
“You have three choices,” he said, flipping a piece of paper over to the blank side and slashing his pen across to divide it into three sections. “A row by yourself, a raft-up in the middle of the row, or tied to a bigger ship.”
Sailboats were the bottom of the barrel. The canal authorities would put a big ship—a cruise ship or cargo ship—in the canal, and then, if there was room, a row or two of sailboats could go in in front or behind the big ship.
“Option one,” Hiro said, “you go by yourself.” He sketched a little oval in the middle of the top section and drew lines from the four “corners” of the oval outward. “This is more work. You have all four linehandlers working here.” He tapped his pen on the page, markingEik’s four corners.
“If you do this,” Robert interrupted, “you should hire professional linehandlers from me. It is a lot harder to control the boats, and my men are experienced.”
“Option two,” Hiro continued, “you raft up with other sailboats.” In the second section, Hiro drew four ovals across the center and made the lines to the corners again, except this time the lines only extended from the two outside boats. “We tie the boats together and only two crew on the outside boats have to manage the lines.
“Option three. We have the wall on this side.” Hiro pointed. “A small ship—a cruise ship, tugboat, etcetera—ties up to the wall, and we tie sailboats up to it.” He drew a big box against the wall, with little ovals next to it. “This is the best one. The small ship goes through a lot, their crew are professionals, they manage the lines. It’s very easy for you. What do you want to do?”
“You can also opt to take the first available,” Robert said. “If you are in a hurry.”
Jonas and Eivind looked at each other.
“First available,” Jonas said.
“Ja,” Eivind agreed.
With that decision made, Hiro packed up the paperwork. “I’ll give Robert your transit times as soon as I have them,” he said, before shaking our hands and departing.
Robert stayed behind to talk about some more formalities with Jonas, and Eivind kept a close ear on the conversation and chimed in. Marcella and Elayna wandered off to their room, but I stayed on the couch, pressed into Eivind. Neither of us moved.
That was how I saw the bill for hiring an agent and transiting the canal. Jonas had paid several thousand dollars to sail through. I could only imagine how much money the big ships spent. But what choice did they have? The alternative, Jonas told me, would be to sail around Cape Horn, which was notorious for wild seas and cold weather.
Finally Robert said his goodbyes and left. Marcella and Elayna came out of their cabins dressed in bathers and left for the pool. Jonas settled into the kitchen, putting away dishes. Eivind shifted over and hiked his leg up onto the couch, his knee touching my hip.
“Lila, do you know how to be a linehandler?”
Six
